Chapter 26 #2
Their eyes held. The silence stretched warm between them. He’s letting me in, she thought, and I’m not certain whether to rejoice or run.
Theo drummed his fingers against the armrest of the chair, counting the minutes before April would arrive.
The soft footfall in the hallway had him quickly gaining his feet. April entered the drawing room in a deep blue dress that flattered her form in a manner that made thought rather difficult.
Breathe, man. What is the matter with you?
“I hope I’ve not kept you waiting,” she said as she stepped closer.
“Only long enough to wonder if you’d decided to lock your doors again.”
She smiled. “Tempting. But I remembered I am a duchess now. There are appearances to keep.”
“Indeed. Appearances such as joining your husband for supper.”
She arched a brow. “Ah, so this was a command, not a request.”
“A coaxing. One rarely commands a woman so formidable.”
“You are learning.”
He offered his arm, and she took it, her fingers settling lightly at his elbow. Her nearness struck him harder than expected. The warmth of her touch bled through the sleeve of his coat. He shouldn’t notice that, but he did. Every time.
They walked together to the dining room where the table was notably smaller, a round one set for two with her chair placed at his right.
April glanced at the setting. “How novel.”
“I asked for the change. It seemed time we dispensed with the battlefield layout.”
“You do favor efficiency. Though this seems dangerously close to… intimacy.”
“Then brace yourself, Duchess,” he said, watching the play of candlelight on her features, the soft curve of her mouth when she tried not to smile. You undo me, and you don’t even try.
They sat. Platters of roasted capon and stewed vegetables were brought forth, and he watched her, hoping the meal pleased her. She cut delicately into the capon and ate a bite. The slight flutter of her lashes had him smiling inwardly. Good.
“The gossip sheets,” April said nearly halfway through the course, “have declared our honeymoon a grand failure.”
Theo frowned. “Have they?”
“They say we are too quiet. That we’ve not been seen walking hand in hand in Hyde Park.”
“And how tragic that must be.”
She laughed and shook her head. “They also say we must be dreadfully unhappy.”
“And are we?”
She met his gaze. “Not tonight.”
He leaned back, watching her fingers curl around the stem of her glass. You could tell me we were at war, and I would not notice, not with you looking at me like that.
“They must be bored,” he murmured, quite unable to take his gaze away from her lips.
“They always are.” She lifted her glass. “To the ton. May they never lack imagination.”
He raised his own. “And may they never gain accuracy.”
“If they knew we’d spent most of our honeymoon deciding how to be friends, chaos would erupt.”
Her emphasis on the word did not escape his notice, and he wondered about the meaning behind it. Should I ask? Theo shook his head at the thought. Perhaps it was best to leave things as they were between them, delicate as that might be.
He sipped his wine before speaking. “It’s a mercy we keep it to ourselves. Let them imagine as they will.”
“Do you think we ought to make an appearance in public? It might settle the speculation.”
Theo’s brows drew slightly together before he shook his head. “No, that would not serve us in any meaningful way.”
Her expression shifted, just slightly. Was that disappointment? April lowered her eyes and pierced a carrot with her fork.
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “What would benefit us is this.” He gestured around them when she looked up. “What we are doing now, forming a home, matters more.”
Her shoulders eased, and a smile crept back onto her lips. “You almost sound like a sentimental man, Theo.”
“Heaven forbid.”
“Do not worry. I shall keep your secret.” The grin on her face was magical.
“I suspect you enjoy having power over me.”
“Only when I wield it responsibly.”
“That does not reassure me in the slightest.”
She laughed, and the warmth of it wrapped around the table like a balm. After dinner, they moved to the drawing room. April eyed the pianoforte.
“Would you mind terribly if I played a bit?”
“Not at all. I’d rather like it. Though if you play as fiercely as you debate about poetry, I might fear for the keys.”
She narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’ll find I am rather delicate when necessary.”
“You appear to have forgotten that I have heard you play,” he murmured, tempted to reach for her and draw her close.
Her fine brows rose. Before she could respond, a small knock sounded on the doorframe. He turned to see Redmond.
“Your Grace, a Runner is here to see you,” he informed. “He says it is important.”
Theo straightened at once. “Thank you. Show him to my study and inform him I’ll be there presently.”
Turning to April, he inclined his head. “Forgive me. I shall not be long.”
She nodded. “Of course, I shall amuse myself.”
Theo proceeded to the study and found the officer waiting.
“Your Grace,” the man said, removing his hat. “We’ve found no trace of a man by the name Michael Linwood. We believe it may be an alias.”
Theo crossed to his desk. “Yes, that is to be expected.”
“But we arrested a man this evening. He’s connected to a number of questionable dealings. He claims he may know your Linwood.”
“Where is he now?”
“At our station.”
Theo considered for a moment. “Keep him there. I’ll come in the morning.”
“As you say, Your Grace.”
When the officer departed, Theo remained as he was for a long while, breathing and collecting his thoughts. The day he solved this case would be one of the most profound days of his life, but before then, he would have remain as patient as possible.
Theo could not tell how much time had passed before his thoughts finally returned to the present. He sighed and ran a hand down his jaw. He should go back to the drawing room.
He found April had dozed off on the settee when he entered. Her head rested against the cushioned back, her hands folded loosely in her lap. The sight of her illuminated his chest.
How do you do this to me, little storm?
He approached slowly and bent to lift her into his arms. She stirred only slightly, a soft sigh against his chest.
He carried her up to his bedchamber—our bedchamber now, he supposed—and laid her gently atop the coverlet. He removed her slippers and pulled a light throw over her.
Then, almost without thought, he leaned down and brushed a kiss to her temple.
I will protect you. I will not ruin what little peace we’ve found.
He settled himself on the settee across the room and retrieved the Faerie Queene from his coat before discarding the garment. He opened the first page he found and read:
For love is a careless thing, And yet the bravest hearts are laid bare before it.
Theo let out a slow breath and closed his eyes. No. Not tonight. He dismissed whatever message the book was attempting to convey.